After 'while
by Alex Kade
Summary: Hunt and team are having more difficulty than they thought in keeping Brandt down post-the events of 'Unexpected Enemy.'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Since you guys all asked so nicely, I decided to go ahead and write a sequel to 'Unexpected Enemy.' Now, this is going to be a chapter story, not sure how long yet, and I want to warn you in advance that I won't be able to update nearly as quickly as Peggster does, lol. It's unusual for me to start uploading chapter stories anymore if they aren't already finished (or darn close to it), but I thought I'd give you all a little taste since you've been such fantastic reviewers. I promise I will try to keep up on this as often as I can, but real life obligations tend to bog me down at the worst times so please don't come after me with pitchforks if I take too long to send you an update (though gentle pokes and reminders are totally okay!). Thanks to the members of The Beta Branch who fixed this up all nice and pretty for me (Red Tigress, SicklySweetNanny), and I hope this will appease everyone's need for more post-crocodile whump mayhem, lol.

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><p>"Wait, Benji, <em>wait! <em>Carter, back him up before it's too-"

Brandt sucked in a breath as he watched his teammate go down in a shower of blood and gore.

"Late?" Jane finished casually, a hint of annoyance in her tone that Brandt could clearly pick up on through his headset.

There was a pause before Benji's guilty voice cut in. "Sorry. I got a little ahead of myself. Won't happen again."

Sighing, Brandt set the controller down on the floor beside the couch he was laying on and rubbed at his eyes. "Benji, for someone so ridiculously good with computers, you really suck at video games."

"I know," Benji replied sullenly, then perked up and continued his explanation at a rapid pace. "I blame it on the fact that it's the one thing on a computer that I can fail at without there being detrimental side effects. It doesn't really matter if I hit the wrong button – the worst that happens is a zombie eats my face, I spawn somewhere else, and start again. Pressure free, you know? I just want to… to get in there and be _reckless._ I don't get to be reckless very often."

"Yeah, well be 'reckless' with someone else's high score," Brandt muttered back. He glanced over at the coffee table where his own computer sat closed, the little sleep-indicator light blinking at him in a taunting manner. He furled his brow and held his breath as he began to push himself up onto his elbows.

"Stop it," Jane ordered in his ear.

He froze. "Stop what?" The innocent tone he was going for was totally lost in the breathless quality of his voice being forced out through clenched teeth.

"Whatever you're doing. You're supposed to call for Ethan if you need something."

Rolling his eyes, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and was barely able to suppress the groan that threatened to escape. Wrapping one arm around his healing side, he leaned forward toward his computer, biting his lip to keep himself from making any noise.

"He's not going to be happy when he finds out you're disobeying doctor's orders," Jane warned him. "…again."

"I think I can handle getting something off a table two feet in front of me," Brandt bit back, though the tug on the stitches in his side and leg as he reached his arm out further told him otherwise.

"Whoa, whoa! Brandt, what are you doing?" Ethan snapped from behind.

"She told you," Benji sing-songed.

Brandt sighed and slowly sat back against the cushions, shutting his eyes as he leaned his head on the back of the couch. "Shut up, Benji."

Ethan came around to see what his agent had been reaching for. Spotting the laptop, he deftly swept it off the table and set it down beside Brandt. "You're supposed to call me if you need something," he scolded.

"Yes, Dad," Brandt mumbled. He lifted his head and eyed the computer for a second as if debating whether he wanted it anymore after his failure to retrieve it on his own. Slowly, he inched one hand over to the release button and opened it up. The other arm remained wrapped around his side.

"You okay?" Ethan asked, critically eyeing the way the analyst was moving.

"I'm fine, Ethan, thank you." Brandt hit a few buttons on the laptop, then paused as he realized Hunt was still staring at him. "I said I'm fine. Go back to whatever it was you were doing before you had to come play 'babysit the cripple.'"

"Brandt-"

"Any word on the undercovers?" Will interrupted without looking away from his screen, his tone one of simple, mild curiosity. Ethan knew better.

"Cary's last report looked promising," he offered. "He thinks they're getting closer."

"Cary's a shitty agent." The insult was mumbled under Brandt's breath, but Ethan heard it just the same. The little smile that suddenly appeared on Will's face told him that Benji and Carter and heard it, too, and one of them had probably piggybacked on the insult…more than likely both of them had. Ethan was inclined to follow suit, but being team leader meant sometimes playing devil's advocate.

"He's trained as well as the rest of us," he countered. "Doesn't matter, anyway. It's not our mission anymore, so you don't need to worry about it. _Your _mission is to get better, should you choose to accept it."

Brandt paused in what he was doing and arched his eyebrows up at Hunt. "Really?" He shook his head. "That was bad, Ethan, even for you."

Benji agreed in his ear, "Pretty corny, yeah."

"Right there with you," Jane said, bemused.

Brandt grinned. "The Wonder Twins agree," he informed his team leader.

"Great, well, the 'Wonder Twins' can agree to meet me at Shortie's in three hours," Ethan replied, talking louder just to make sure Benji and Jane could hear him clearly through Brandt's mic.

The smile dropped from Will's face. "You're meeting at Shortie's? What's our mission?"

Hunt glared at Brandt. "_We _don't have a mission. I'm debriefing Carter and Benji on a potential threat. They're going in to do some digging, you're resting, and I'm staying here to-"

"Babysit the cripple, right."

Ethan frowned at him. "Would you sto-"

"Take me home," Brandt blurted out. He reached up to his ear and flipped the mic off. "Take me home, put someone else on babysitting duty, and go with them. You need to be watching their backs instead of mine."

"It's just simple recon, they don't need me there."

Brandt scoffed. "Come on, this is _our _team we're talking about. We attract trouble like flypaper. They need you on point." At the argumentative look on Ethan's face, Will gestured with the hand that been pressed against his side, and wrapped his case with a single word: "Crocodile."

With a relenting sigh, Hunt nodded his head. "Tell them four hours; we'll fly you home, first." He stood up straighter and pointed his finger in Brandt's direction. "But I'm putting an agent on you."

"Great, you can set me up with Cary. He's not doing anything, anyway." Brandt shrugged and turned back to his computer, his manner so nonchalant that Ethan almost missed the insult.

Hunt smiled. "Cary's a shitty agent. I'll find someone I can trust."

With a nod and a subtle smirk, Brandt gently slid the laptop onto his good leg and flipped his mic back on. "You've got an extra hour. Anyone up for DCU?" There was a pause before Brandt huffed out a sigh. "Villains, Benji, the heroes are lame. We've been through this."

Ethan laughed as he left his agents to their game, thinking that he'd have to get someone _good_ to watch over Brandt, someone quick on their toes. The "boring analyst" didn't sit still as easily as everyone would think upon first meeting him, and just one week out of the hospital had already proven to be a bit of a challenge. No, someone like Cary wouldn't do at all for Mission: Keep Brandt Subdued.

…In fact, he was having a hard time coming up with anyone who would fit the bill. This was going to be harder than he thought…

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_

Shortie's, a tiny little café on the outskirts of Topeka, had become the meeting grounds for Hunt's team purely by accident. At the end of an exhausting (but surprisingly injury-free) mission, they were on the road back to their hotel when a twister, of all things, threatened to end their careers for good. Benji had spotted the little diner off the side of the road in time for all of them to get inside, after which the owners of the place ushered the four of them down into the cellar. Half the restaurant, plus the government's sanctioned van and it's millions dollars of equipment, disappeared in the blink of an eye; but after hours in the cellar waiting for rescue teams to unbury the hatch door, Hunt and his crew had been accepted as family by the business owners and the other locals who had been trapped with them. In thanks for saving their lives, Hunt offered the funding to rebuild the café, after which he and his team were granted free service for a life time in their own private dining room, never to be used by anyone but them (as per Ethan's request under the guise that they were regular FBI agents who sometimes worked in the area). Etta and Dale, the owners, never tried to pry into the team's personal business, always greeted them with smiles, hugs, and friendly pecks from Etta, and could also cook a damn good meal. Even more convenient, with Ethan living in Seattle, Brandt in Burbank, Benji in Detroit, and Carter in Miami, the place was centered nicely between all of them, making it a quick and easy trip via IMF-sanctioned private jets. For everyone on Hunt's team, it had practically become a welcome second home.

Jane swirled the straw through the ice in her glass as she propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin on her closed fist. With a glance down at her phone's clock, she let out a bored sigh.

Benji glanced up from his computer. "Wha- I'm sorry, am I _that_ bad company? Would you like me to talk about guns, or cars, or, or, or maybe _ponies._ I saw the way you were looking at those Shetlands last month." She glared at him, but it only seemed to spur him on. "Admit it, you thought they were cute."

She laughed once and dropped her gaze. "Yes, they were cute; and no, you don't need to talk about them. I was just wondering what was taking Ethan so long. It's not like him to be late."

"Well maybe he-"

Whatever Benji was about to say got cut off as they heard Etta gasp and saw her shoot past the door of their room that they always left open until debriefing time. "Lord in Heaven, honey, what happened to you?" she practically shouted.

It was all that was needed for Jane and Benji to rush out into the commotion that the rest of the diner patrons were creating. Above the small crowd they could see Ethan trying to wave people away. The pleading look he shot Etta was almost comical as he failed to keep the well-meaning locals at bay.

Etta gave Hunt an understanding nod before throwing her arms up in the air. "Alright, ya damn nosy nellies, go on! Git back to your tables! Don't want the good food Dale cooked for y'all gettin' cold, now, do ya? Now git! Scram!"

As the mumbling crowd parted, Jane and Benji's jaws dropped as a tiredly smiling Brandt was revealed sitting in his wheelchair. Etta bent down and said something to him that they couldn't hear, and his smile grew wider as he nodded and replied back. She gave him his token kiss, patted his shoulder, and was off in her usual whirlwind manner to manage the café as its sole waitress.

"Hey, guys," Brandt greeted as Ethan rolled him over to the doorway of the private room where Carter and Dunn still stood in stunned silence. "Etta's making me a chocolate, cherry, banana milkshake."

Their eyes shifted from the beaming Brandt up to Ethan, who shook his head at their confused looks. "I gave him something a little stronger for the flight over. He should be coming down sometime in the next hour." He offered no other explanation as he wheeled his charge over to the single table.

Jane and Benji exchanged a glance as they followed behind him and shut the door.

"What is he _doing _here, Ethan?" Jane hissed, pulling Hunt over to one side as Benji jumped to keep Brandt from playing with his computer.

"I couldn't find anyone to watch him," Ethan responded, his clipped tone revealing that he was no more happy with the situation than she was. "The only people I'd want are out on mission. I didn't have a choice." At Brandt's laughter, they turned to see that Benji had put some stupid cartoon up on his screen. The tech looked back at them and shrugged apologetically, to which Ethan closed his eyes in irritation for a second before continuing. "When he passes out we'll do the debriefing."

"And during the recon?" she questioned.

Hunt turned his attention back to the giggling agent. "I'll figure it out."

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **This update came up pretty fast for me, yeah? Lol, trying to do right by you guys. ;) This chapter's a little shorter - mission set up details and all that jazz. I gave you just a teeny bit more of drug-high Brandt since you guys seemed to enjoy that so much last chapter, lol. Thanks to The Beta Branch folks for looking it over, and thanks to all the anon reviewers that I can't thank via private message like usual. You guys rock!

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><p>"Hmmm…not bad," Benji said, a touch of surprise in his voice as he stared at the drink he had absconded with. "Kind of like…like a melted banana split. With extra cherries."<p>

Jane stared at him and raised an eyebrow. "That's disgusting," she deadpanned, "_and _it's Brandt's. Put it back."

"Well it's not like he's going to notice," Benji argued, pointing at the agent who was fast asleep in his chair. "Besides, I'm pretty sure my French fries drank more of it than he did over the last half hour."

He pointed down at the pile of brown-tinted mush that used to be his fries, hardly touched before Brandt had decided that the milkshake flavor would be better than ketchup. Seeing as how the process of very carefully letting the thick liquid fall from the straw one drop at a time kept Brandt focused and quiet, no one bothered to try to stop him. Benji could always get more fries later - they _were _free, after all.

"Guys, the mission?" Ethan reminded them as he pulled a small, black box out of his messenger bag. He set it on the table and pushed a button on a tiny remote control device, bringing up a holographic display that could be seen clearly from both sides of the table. A video of a short, slightly overweight, balding man making his way into a rundown motel played for a few seconds before Ethan paused it. "Garret Styles, assistant and general brown-noser to Reese Carmichael-" he hit the button and another image came up of a younger man sporting a very expensive Armani suit; his black, wavy hair slicked back to reveal bright green eyes and a sly smile, "recently appointed CEO of Detroskye Industries."

Jane looked up. "The hover-tech company?"

"_The _hover-tech company," Benji corrected. "I've seen some of their designs. Competitors can't even come close."

Ethan nodded. "Right, and just when the military was due to draw up a contract with former CEO Houston James, James winds up dead."

"Murder?" Benji interjected.

"Stroke," Hunt answered. "No foul play suspected as far as anyone can tell, but Carmichael gets put in charge and suddenly no deal. He won't sign."

Jane frowned. "With military backing, his company would be set for life. Why wouldn't he sign for that?"

"Exactly," Ethan responded. "Young entrepreneur, head of a top-notch company gaining world attention at the age of thirty-seven, a fortune practically dropped on his doorstep - he's got everything to lose…so why wouldn't he make the deal?"

Benji sat back in his chair and gestured at the hologram. "So, what, we put a bug and tracker on Styles, sit on him for a bit, and see if anything pops up?"

Ethan nodded slowly. "Pretty much, yeah."

"That's it." Jane said it as a statement more than a question.

"That's it," Hunt confirmed. "If anything suspicious _does _come up, we have free reign to take whatever action we see fit from there."

"…Okay…and IMF put _us_ on the initial recon…why?" Jane asked.

Hunt pointedly looked over at Brandt.

Benji scoffed. "What? He gets injured, so the rest of us are stuck doing rookie jobs? How is _that _fair? I could handle this mission alone with my eyes closed!"

There was a pause before Ethan admitted quietly, "I picked it." At the shocked looks Benji and Jane shot his way he continued with his explanation. "Look, I needed him to focus on something other than the Columbia case. He says he knows it's not his fault, but the constant questions, the snide jokes aimed at himself, the restlessness – it's driving him nuts, and because of that he's driving _me _nuts. I was hoping if I got our team involved in something else, he could put it out of his head for a little while."

Jane squinted her eyes at him in confusion. "But why _this _case? Why something so easy?"

"Because…" Ethan rubbed his eyes with his fingers, "The initial idea was for him to stay with me at my place, you'd check in every day, maybe feed him something to work with, and just keep him busy without worrying him too much about you two being in the field by yourselves."

"…But?" Benji prompted.

"_But, _he worried too much about you two being in the field by yourselves. He convinced me that I should be on point."

With a laugh, Jane asked, "How'd he do that?"

Ethan shook his head. "A whole…Murphy's Law…thing. It doesn't matter. It still would've worked out if I could've found someone to babys-" He cut himself off and closed his eyes as he realized he was about to repeat the exact same degrading statement that pissed him off every single time Brandt used it. "…He'll be calmer if he's with us, anyway, instead of working himself up at home. Plus, we can all keep an eye on him."

There was an awkward, uncertain silence before Benji nodded emphatically. "This can work. We can just st-stick him in the van. With me. I'll put him on a screen, give him a headset, make him feel like he's doing something…and if he falls asleep or needs a break, I can handle it on my own. Yeah, we can do this."

Ethan cracked a small smile and turned his attention to Carter. "Jane?"

She put her hands up. "I'm fine with whatever you guys want to do."

Hunt eyed her critically, "I'm sensing another 'but' in the conversation…"

She looked at Brandt. "Murphy's Law… What do we do with him if things get hot out there?"

"Like I said, we'll figure it out," Ethan answered. "If the case gets too heavy, we'll just pull out, report our findings, and let someone else take over."

"Hmm-mmm, no, not a good idea," Benji argued. "The whole reason we're doing this, according to you, is to get his mind off the fact that we had to pull out of the _last_ case due to his injury. If we have to do it again…"

"We don't have much of a choice," Ethan snapped back, his tone a little sharper than he had intended. He sucked in a breath to calm his obvious frazzled nerves before starting again. "We run with it, see where it goes, and take it as far as we can. I won't let him get hurt again, but we've got to do something before he snaps."

"Is it really that bad?" Jane asked with a frown. "Every time we talk he always seems so-"

"Every time he looked at me during our first mission he blamed himself for my wife's death. Without me pulling his file, or him telling me directly, I never would've known. If there's one thing Brandt's good at, it's hiding guilt. He's distancing himself over the Columbia mission, playing it off as fine so we don't worry, but we're losing him. I can see it now that I know what I'm looking for. We have to at least try."

"Alright," Jane said, nodding with more certainty. She snagged the remote from Ethan's hand and flipped back to the image of Styles. "So how do we get a bug on this guy?"

Ethan smirked at her, then turned his smile on Benji. "Someone needs to seduce the assistant."

Benji furled his brows. "Sedu- Why are looking at _me _like that? Shouldn't that be Ja-" The grin on Ethan's face grew even bigger. "Oh, no. _No! _Not me! _You _do it! I'm supposed to be in the van doing the whole stakeout thing! With Brandt! I'm not-"

"He likes accents, and I'm too old," Hunt said with an apologetic shrug. "It's gotta be you."

Jane patted the tech's hand. "Do it for Brandt."

"Really? You played that card?" He threw his hands up in agitation. "Already, she's pulling out the guilt card. This is great, wonderful, fantastic. He's not even remotely attractive! If I were a woman, I'd be gagging. In fact, just thinking about it… Oh, god, I really think I _am _going to gag…"

Jane and Ethan laughed as Benji continued to rant, knowing he would do what needed to be done. Ethan just hoped this moment of camaraderie and good humor wasn't about to become the calm before the storm.

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **All I can say is, "I'm sorry, Benji." Lol!

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><p>"Lean up- no, not like that! Jesus, Benj, you're supposed to turn him on, not scare him straight! Just lean up on your elbow a little…Yeah, like that." Brandt used a hand to wipe the growing smile from his face as he watched Benji reposition himself on the bed through the camera feed.<p>

Benji huffed out a frustrated growl and flopped back down onto the pillows. "I hope you know that this is the most demoralizing thing I've ever done. I'll probably be scarred for life after this."

"If I let you count it on The Scar Chart will it make you feel better?" Brandt asked, not even trying to hide his amusement anymore.

The tech frowned in thought for a second before replying. "Actually, yes, it would. Not that it matters. I don't think any of us can catch up to 'mauled by a crocodile.'"

Brandt laughed openly at that. "Hear that, Jane? Add a tally for Benji on the Chart."

"Got it," she responded through the comm, "and look alive, boys, Styles just pulled in. You're up, Ethan."

"Copy that," his reply came.

Brandt laughed again as the camera picked up Styles stepping into the lobby of the hotel. "Heads up, Benj, he's wearing a trench coat."

"What does _that _mean?" the tech asked, his pitch slightly higher than normal.

Will shook his head. "You'll see… He's on the elevator now."

Benji scoffed. "'You'll see?' I don't _want _to see! Ethan, I've changed my mind. Switch places with me."

"Sorry, Benji, no time to change outfits," Hunt said. "Besides, you pull off the collar better than I can."

"That's not funny! I look ridiculous! And it wasn't fair to keep the whole bondage bit a secret! I would never have agreed to this had I known!"

"I know," Ethan smirked, "now shut up, the elevator's here. And get into character."

"'Get into character' he says. _You _get into character." He mumbled more to himself as he once again resumed the position that Brandt had coached him through, laying out across the bed sideways facing the door, his head propped up in one hand, and the other hand resting casually on a raised knee. The silver buckle on the black leather collar shimmered in the light, and his black mesh tank stretched tight across his chest. The leather of his tight slacks creaked slightly as he adjusted the angle of his legs. "Is this right?" he muttered, completely appalled.

"You're beautiful, Benj," Brandt answered, then shifted his attention back to Ethan's screen where the lead agent was just coming around to the front of the desk of the upstairs lobby to greet the target. Although not as flamboyant as Benji's wear, Ethan's bright, royal blue suit definitely stood out in contrast to the beige, peeling wallpaper of the hotel.

"Mr. Smith, right on time," Hunt said, reaching out a black-gloved hand towards the target.

Styles shook it, though his eyes never met Ethan's. Instead, they darted around the small lobby nervously.

"Please, Mr. Smith, we value our customers' privacy as much as you value our discretion. No need to worry." The easy smile Hunt displayed seemed to put the balding man a little more at ease. "Now, according to your preferences I believe we've picked the perfect match for you. If you'd like to head on down this hall – yes, that one right there – you'll find Room 317 open for you. Your prize is already waiting inside."

"Prize?" Benji squeaked. "That's just brilliant. I'm a _prize."_

"Benji, shut up!" Brandt scolded. "Styles is at your door. Jane?"

"There's nothing in here about Carmichael." She shoved the papers she was sorting through back into the glovebox and snapped it shut, then moved towards the car's stereo and Bluetooth system. "Getting ready to install the bug."

"Well you'd better move fast because Benji…" Brandt stared at the way the tech was trying – and failing – to show Styles a sexy leer as the man walked through the door. He laughed and shook his head. "He's about to crash and burn, big time."

They all heard Ethan's sigh. "Think Elizabeth Hurley, you're trying to seduce Elizabeth Hurley."

"Right," Benji mumbled, then looked up at Styles in slight alarm as he realized he had spoken out loud. "Uh, right…right this w-way…big boy."

Brandt dropped his face into his hand and groaned. To his surprise, the sound of chortling laughter filtered through his earpiece next, and he snapped his head up to see the look of amused joy on the target's face.

"Am I your first?" Styles asked.

Benji scoffed. "_No. _I've had lots of…lots of m-me-" He coughed and cleared his throat. "_clients _before."

The target shook his head and laughed again. "No, no, don't lie to me, now. I'm not upset about it. Everything will be all right. It just means we'll have to change this to a game of school fantasy. I'll be the teacher, you'll be my apt pupil. How does that sound?"

"That…sounds…delightful?" The look on Benji's face revealed that he thought it was anything _but _delightful.

Styles stepped closer to the bed. "Oh, it will be. Let me just slip into my school uniform."

To Benji's horror, Styles reached up and undid the knot in the trench coat's belt, dropping his shoulders so that the cover would slide quickly to the ground.

"Oh, dear god!" the tech cried, while at the same time Brandt hollered, "Whoa!"

Laughing, Will turned his face from the screen and covered his eyes. "Jane, give Benji another tally; and one for me, too. I am so sorry, man."

A half second later found Benji fleeing the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Ethan glared at him, storming down the hall to cut off his agent's escape. He cornered Benji against the door and gripped the handle behind the tech's back to prevent Styles from opening it.

"What are you doing?" Hunt hissed.

Benji shook his head as he spoke. "I can't do this. I am _not _doing this. No means no, and I mean no. You can't make me go back in there."

"Benji, listen to me. All you have to do is get that implant somewhere on his body – anywhere. Once it's online you can get the hell out. Now get back in there and do your job."

"But, but…you didn't see what he was _wearing_!" Benji stammered.

Brandt cut in. "It's not pretty."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Not helping, Brandt."

The door shook a little bit as Styles tried to open it from the inside. Hunt gave Benji a look that said, "stay put," and maneuvered himself around the tech so he could slip his head into the room. His eyes widened just a tiny bit, the only sign of his surprise at the sight of the robust assistant standing there with nothing on but a black thong and a silver chain that connected one nipple ring to the other.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Smith, he's a little shy. Just give me a second and I'll have him back in here…unless you'd like a new-"

"No, I like him," Styles smiled. "He's a feisty one."

Ethan nodded and shut the door again, giving Benji an apologetic shrug with one shoulder.

Brandt, doing his best to keep his eyes plastered anywhere but on the screen displaying Styles in all his unnatural glory, raised his eyebrows. "Unbelievable. You're a natural."

"Brandt, _please, _shut up," Benji mumbled as he prepared to go back into the room.

They heard Jane chuckle as she continued her work. "Seems like 'obnoxious side commentary' is actually a side effect of handling surveillance; and all this time I thought it was just Benji's personality."

"Fine. I'll tell you what. You won't get _any _obnoxious side commentary from me ever again after this, because I'm not speaking to any of you until I'm done being angry; and in case you didn't hear the 'ever again,' that means I'm _never _going to stop being angry." Without another word, Benji sucked in a deep breath and stepped back into the room.

Ethan let out a long sigh. "Benji, just do your job and get out. Brandt, Carter, no more wise cracks. Let's just get this over with, and we can all get out of here."

There was silence for a second before they all heard Benji clear his throat awkwardly. "Um…I'm sorry…I just-"

"You've been a naughty boy," Styles scolded, shaking his finger at the tech. "In _my _school, the teachers are allowed to punish the students for acting out. Now come over here and let professor give pupil a spanking."

Brandt saw what little color Benji had drain out of his face. Dunn stood rooted to the floor, clearly frozen in place by the concept of allowing Styles to touch him. Thinking quick, he blurted out, "Tell him _you _want to do the spanking."

Ethan warned Brandt by just stating his name in a frustrated manner while Jane spewed out a, "What?"

Brandt ignored them. "Benj, listen to me. He'll go for it, guy's a bondage creep. You tell him you want to administer the punishment, hit him with the implant, the needle prick will hurt, _which _he'll like so he won't even question it, I activate the chip, and you walk out clean. It's the perfect shot."

Benji, utterly overwhelmed by the whole ordeal by this point, stuttered for a second before practically screaming, "I am _not _going to stick my implant in his _ass_!"

Everyone held their breaths as Benji snapped his eyes up at the shocked Styles. A few long seconds ticked by before the man chuckled lightly, then broke out into full on laughter. He crouched over and held his stomach as he shuffled up to the tech, barely able to speak as he put a hand on Benji's shoulder.

"Son, you need to calm down! I know it's your first time. We can wait on the really kinky stuff until you've eased up a bit, maybe after a few sessions. I just wanted a spanking, for Christ's sake!"

Brandt cracked. Falling into a fit of laughter of his own, he clutched at his side and spit out a tiny, "Ow," in between breaths.

Face red in a full on flush, Benji did his best to ignore his friend and spat out, "Can I…can I administer the punishment? Please?"

Styles thought it over for a second before slapping the younger man on the back. "Sure. Why not? Whatever'll make you feel more comfortable. I'll just go get in position over on the bed, there."

Brandt's increasing fit of laughter was abruptly cut off as Ethan ordered him to turn off his mic. The utter silence that followed had Benji almost wishing the analyst would come back online. Now it seemed as though he were alone in the room with a psycho.

"Just do it, Benji," Ethan said quietly, giving the tech the little push he needed to approach the bed where Styles was waiting, propped up on all fours like a dog.

Benji hesitantly moved behind the man, scrunching up his face in disgust at the exposed flesh of the man's rear around the too-small piece of cloth. Reaching down to his buckled punk boots he slid out a tiny syringe designed to fit between his fingers, a rubber top like an eye-dropper's being the mechanism that would push the chip beneath the skin.

"Here we go," he murmured as he pulled his hand back, doing his best not to look at where he was aiming. "_You _have been a _very _bad boy, Mr. Smith," he said in an almost casual manner, then released all his frustrations towards his teammates in his swing. His hand hit hard, the bite of the needle nearly lost in the stinging power of the blow, and Styles let out a sound that was part pain, part pleasure.

"Oh yeah, another one like _that_!" he whooped.

Benji walked around the bed and leaned down to look in Styles' face. "You're disgusting. I quit."

With that, he stood tall, ripped off the collar and flung it at the ground, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As he stomped past Ethan, he held up a hand in order to shut down anything the team leader might have said, and bypassed the elevator, wrenching open the door to the stairwell.

Ethan turned back to the bedroom as Styles, trench coat back in place, stepped out. Donning his persona once again, he made himself look mortified as he rushed to meet the target.

"Mr. Smith, I am so sorry. I will issue you a full refund and a free session for your next visit."

Styles also silenced him with a hand. "No need. Haven't had a fresh one in…well, I can't remember how long. It was fun. Not quite what I came here for, but still fun. I'll be sure to hang onto your card for next time around."

There was a short moment when a surprised Ethan didn't quite know what to say. Recovering quickly enough, he plastered on a smile and held out a hand to the man. "Th-thank you for your business, Mr. Smith. I look forward to hearing from you again in the future."

As Styles meandered to the elevator, Brandt turned his mic back on. "That's the first time I've ever heard you stutter," he pointed out, the amusement still clear in his voice.

"I think this was a first time for all of us," the team leader answered, wiping a hand down his face. "Status report?"

Jane was the first to speak up. "Bugs are online and masked by his own Bluetooth system. Almost at the hotel, now."

"The chip is online and giving clear readings of Styles' location…and if the heat signature readouts are as accurate as Benji claims, then he's passing a cat in the alley about twelve feet to his left," Brandt reported.

"Benji?" Ethan prompted when no one else spoke.

Brandt answered, instead. "In the van and pouting. I think he's holding to the whole 'not talking to us' thing."

Hunt smirked. "That's fine. I'll clean up, then meet you down there in a minute. Good work, team."

There was silence for a second before he heard Benji mumble, "I hope you pulled a stitch while you were laughing at my expense." Shaking his head, Ethan set about erasing their presence from the floor they were on while Jane checked in to say she was doing the same with the lower level. The mission may have been a traumatic experience for Benji, but at least Brandt was enjoying himself. That _was _the whole purpose to this thing, after all.

"Phase One, complete," he reported happily as he pocketed the last hidden camera, wondering what surprises may be hiding in Phase Two.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Aaaaand, a shorter bit to bring the mood back to neutral territory after that last debacle of a chapter, lol. Your reviews were cracking me up, btw! Thanks for those!

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><p>The one thing about stakeouts that everybody who had ever <em>been <em>on a stakeout quickly realized, and promptly hated, was that _someone _always had to monitor the target. It didn't matter that it was two _fucking _thirty in the morning, and the creep was snoring loud enough in his bed to keep the whole damn block awake; _someone _still had to listen in and record everything. At the moment, that someone happened to be Benji who was still far too irritated with his teammates, and too wound up from his evening's experience to even attempt to sleep.

Headphones plastered firmly over his ears so he could tune out whatever Ethan and Brandt were saying in the back, he slightly adjusted the angle of the receiver dish that sat atop the van so that it no longer pointed directly towards the bedroom. He could still hear the snoring just fine, but now it came through a little muffled instead of threatening to rattle his teeth out of his head with its sheer volume. Tomorrow (or rather, later that day), Benji and Jane would install proper bugs inside Styles' home while Ethan and Brandt followed the target in the van, using the dish and the implant to try to catch anything incriminating on Carmichael. In the meantime, Benji was on listening duty, Jane had gone to the hotel to catch a few hours of decent sleep and was due to switch one of them out soon, and Ethan was trying to convince Brandt to get some shuteye instead of pouring through all of Carmichael's business records with his usual analytical diligence.

Thinking about their individual duties made the tech realize how quiet things had actually gotten in the back. He wondered how long it had been that way as he pushed one of the headphones off one ear and peered over his shoulder to see what was going on. It seemed Ethan had finally succeeded in convincing Brandt to get some sleep, after all, as the analyst was stretched out on the bench seat with a blanket tossed over him, oblivious to the way the team leader watched him intently.

Confused, Benji once again broke his own vow to not talk to anyone for the rest of forever. "You don't watch _all _of us like that when we sleep, do you?" he whispered. "Because, it's kind of a little disturbing."

Ethan shook his head slowly, shooting the smallest of glances towards the tech before going back to monitoring his charge. "Nightmares," he whispered. "A mild reaction to his medication."

Benji turned more in his seat, giving his healing friend a critical once-over. "About the crocodile?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes things from before. I don't ask." Hunt leaned forward a little as Brandt drew in a short breath and rolled his head slightly towards the back of the seat. "I usually have to pull him out of one or two of them before he can get any real sleep."

With a nod, Benji turned back towards his screen and kept an eye on the blinking blue dot that showed the target's location, as well as the smaller, roving red one that signified Styles' rat terrier. It was currently shuffling around in the kitchen, probably getting into the man's garbage. Benji did his best to focus on that little dot instead of on the way that Brandt began to murmur behind him, trying his best not to intrude on a personal moment that would no doubt embarrass the analyst. On the other hand, curiosity and genuine concern for his friend kept the tech from placing the headphone back into its snug position over his ear. Instead, he sat still and listened as Ethan tried to gently coax Brandt back into the real world without touching him; and wondered briefly if the team leader had previously learned the hard way what might happen if Brandt were woken via physical contact…

To Benji's surprise, Brandt's mumbles became clear enough for him to understand a couple lines from a slow, sleep-dulled song: "Hope you are quite prepared to die…one eye is taken for an eye…"

It took the tech a moment to remember where the disjointed lyrics came from, but alarm filled him once the pieces came together. "Oh shit, Ethan, wake him up!" he demanded, yanking the headphones off so he could fully turn around in his seat. "Wake him up, now! I know where he is!"

Will abruptly stopped singing the melancholic tune and croaked out Benji's name as a pained question. He clearly wasn't yet conscious, but somehow the tech's voice had gotten through the nightmare on some level.

"Talk to him," Ethan ordered.

Benji nodded quickly. "No 'Bad Moon Rising,' Brandt. Remember when I told you that?"

Brandt sluggishly shook his head. When he spoke, there was nothing but despair in his tone. "This's diff'rent. This's really it…the end…"

"No it's not, Will, listen to me. You're in the van with me and Ethan. Roux is dead. He's been dead for a long time." At the mention of Roux's name, Ethan's attention switched from Brandt to Benji. The tech ignored him and continued on with trying to get through the nightmare. "_You're _very much alive, and just hours ago somehow convinced me to contaminate my hand with a palm full of man buttocks, remember? I'll never be able to eat from this hand again, thanks to you."

To Hunt's surprise, Brandt chuckled at that, and after a couple minutes settled back into a deeper slumber without ever having fully woken up. A few more minutes passed as Hunt and Benji watched to make sure no more nightmares were on the tail of the first, then Ethan relaxed back in his own seat.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

Benji shook his head. He had promised Brandt that he wouldn't tell, and he wouldn't break that promise now. "The Germany mission," he said, trying to carefully choose his words. "The song came up in conversation while we were making our way back to the rendezvous. It…um…it came up again…later…"

"When Roux had him," Hunt stated. At Benji's curt nod he dropped the subject, not one to pry into his friends' secrets if they didn't want to share. The Roux mission, in particular, was one that _nobody _wanted to remember. "Thanks, Benji," he opted, giving the tech a small smile. "And sorry about…you know."

Benji dropped his head and turned back around in his seat. "We'll just call it even for that whole almost-falling-off-the-tallest-building-in-the-world incident back in Dubai, okay?"

A quick smirk flashed across Ethan's lips. "Deal."

"-As long as nobody ever mentions tonight in my presence ever again," the tech added.

Ethan glanced at Brandt skeptically. "I'll try."

Benji had caught Ethan's glance at the analyst in the mirror. "He won't behave, will he?"

"Probably not," Hunt admitted with an apologetic shrug.

Sighing, Dunn slipped his headphones back on and went back to doing his job. When Jane came to switch one of them, he was going to take that offer; and as soon as he got back to the hotel his first order of business was to take a long, hot shower. _Then _maybe he could get some rest of his own.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Let's have some Ethan & Brandt (almost put a slash in there then remembered that a slash mark has a whoooole new meaning in fanfiction, lol!) bonding time, shall we? ...Or maybe some not so much bonding time? Methinks our team is going to kill my boy before this story is through, lol.

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><p>Ethan stood at the hotel's kitchen counter absently flipping through the morning paper while he waited for his teammate. He and Brandt had been given the last spot in the three hour break rotation, and after a short nap and a chance to clean up, they still had about an hour to go before Styles was due to be at work. It seemed Brandt was taking his time getting ready, something Ethan was actually thankful for because it meant the injured man wasn't pushing himself too hard…yet. Somehow Hunt didn't think it was going to stay that way for too long.<p>

"God, I hate this thing," Brandt muttered as he slowly emerged from the bathroom, carefully picking his footing as he made his way back to his chair using the aide of a rolling walker. He leaned on it heavily whenever he needed to pick up his right leg, and he couldn't quite manage to pick the left off the ground entirely, almost dragging it along beneath him like extra baggage. Instead of taking steps, he walked in a series of_ lean, hop, slide, lean, hop, slide, _resting in between every other shuffling step he took on his bad leg.

"You shouldn't be using it yet, at all," Ethan pointed out for probably the millionth time since Brandt came under his care. The injured agent wasn't supposed to have attempted walking for at least another week, certainly not while he still suffered the effects of the mild ankle sprain on top of the muscle damage in his thigh, but convincing him of that was a lost cause. Brandt won that argument the very first day out of the hospital when he stubbornly decided he was going to get up and walk around with or without his team leader's approval. Three painful falls later, Ethan realized he either needed to keep Brandt constantly sedated – pretty much an impossible feat due to the fact that the analyst would catch on to oral sedatives quickly enough, which would no-doubt result in a refusal to take _any _of his medications; and anything involving injecting Brandt with a needle unless absolutely necessary was out of the question – or give him the walker so that the man could move around with some semblance of freedom without causing further damage to himself. Reveling in his victory, Will had done the slowest lap of all time around the living room, then promptly passed out on the couch for the next six hours; after which he woke up sore as all hell. Ethan got to say, "I told you so." Brandt didn't give a shit, and _continued _to not give a shit every time he happily shuffled around on his own two feet, much to Ethan's dismay.

Ethan frowned as he helped steady Brandt while he slid down into his chair. "I thought you were taking a shower," he said, glancing over to the bathroom where he noticed the untouched roll of plastic wrapping on the sink that was used to keep the stitches dry.

Brandt shrugged as he steadily worked his way down the row of snap buttons on the legs of his pants, the breakaways being much easier to get on and off than his normal slacks or jeans. How he managed to get into and out of his boxers by himself was anyone's guess, but he was adamant from the start that no one was changing him 'like a man-baby.' "I figured between you and Benji all the hot water would be gone," he said, his tone light and teasing.

Ethan snorted out a small laugh. "It's a hotel. You can't use up-"

_A hotel. _If there was ever a moment when Ethan felt the need to literally slap his palm to his forehead, this would be it. They were in a basic hotel with basic hotel showers, which meant getting into it required stepping over the high edge of a bathtub.

Brandt saw the look on his team leader's face and deciphered it for exactly what it was. "Don't worry about it. We can check in at a more handi-accessible hotel tomorrow."

"We still have time," Ethan tentatively offered. "I can help you-"

"No." Brandt rolled the chair towards the doorway a few feet, then stopped when he realized Hunt wasn't following. "If we have all this extra time, then I want breakfast - the kind that comes as a plate full of food I can drown with syrup."

"That's pretty much everything on the breakfast menu for you," Ethan pointed out.

"Exactly. Let's go. I'm starving."

Hunt nodded and grabbed the handles on the back of Brandt's chair, grateful for the fact that this was at least the first morning since the agent's hospital release that he _hadn't _asked about Cary's non-progress on the Columbia mission.

"You're buying, right?" Will casually asked as they went out the door.

Ethan laughed. "Yeah, buddy, I'm buying."

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_

Ethan yanked the headphones off and dropped them onto the seat beside him, huffing out a frustrated sigh. Brandt, sitting in the back with the radar screen resting on his lap, arched his eyebrows up.

"Problem?"

"There's too much static," Hunt answered. "I can't hear a damn thing."

Benji buzzed through on the comms. "I told you, you need to get closer. The range on that dish isn't far enough to compensate for distance plus the height of the building."

"We can't _get _any closer. All the spaces up front are reserved for staff," Ethan informed the tech.

"Or handicapped," Brandt offered in an overly casual tone, then added as if surprised, "Oh, hey! We have one of those!"

Ethan twisted around in his seat and stared at his agent. "We've been fighting with this thing for over an hour. You couldn't think of that before?"

"Apparently not."

"You're the analyst. You're _supposed _to think of this stuff," Hunt said, utterly flabbergasted.

Brandt looked back down at his screen and twirled his fingers beside his head. "Analyst on meds. I'm not exactly firing on all cylinders over here."

Hunt ignored the snickers coming through the comm from his two other oh-so-helpful agents. "Benji, how long would it take to get some new plates for the van?"

"Well, uh, let's see…The machine can spit them out in roughly fifteen minutes, add another five for me to hack into the system and make the plates 'official' in case anybody bothers to check, tack on another half hour drive time for me to get from here to the hotel and back to you guys, maybe add another-"

"Benji. Just give me a time."

"Right, um, I'd say an hour, hour fifteen, tops."

"Jane?" Ethan asked.

She came back right away with, "Styles is gone all day. If I can't spare Benji for one hour of that, then I have no business being in the IMF. I'll probably be done here before he gets back."

"Right, and if you get bored, you can always let the dog out," Benji offered, the humor in his tone implying there was an inside joke to that. Ethan could almost hear her eye roll in response.

"We'll be waiting," he prompted. "South lot, northeast corner."

"Copy that," the tech answered, then went quiet.

It was peacefully silent in the van for all of ten seconds before Brandt started in with, "Soooo…what do we while we wait?"

"Watch the radar," Ethan answered, his response coming out more as a direct order than a suggestion.

Another few seconds went by before Brandt held the tablet up through the little window, and waited patiently for Hunt to take it. When Ethan didn't immediately move, the analyst shook the computer slightly. "I need to check something in Carmichael's file again."

Curious, Ethan took the tablet, glanced at it to see the readout showing that Styles was in a meeting with several people that didn't match Carmichael's physical specs, and turned back to where Brandt was quickly scrolling through the digital reader containing all of the target's information. The agent flipped past something, stopped, then went back and started reading whatever had caught his eye. "What do you have?" Ethan asked, seeing the gears working in the analyst's head.

"I think we should send someone on the inside," Brandt said absently as he continued to read.

Ethan looked up at the ceiling of the van for a second, took a breath, then responded as calmly as possible. "If we pick something up on our surveillance that warrants sending someone undercover, we'll consider it. Otherwise, we work with the bugs and Benji's chip. From the outside."

"That could take weeks, and it doesn't guarantee we pick up anything incriminating," Will argued.

"There might not be anything incriminating to pick up," Ethan retorted. "That's what we're doing here in the first place – just recon."

"We can do it faster from the inside…" It came out as side commentary in almost an sing-songy fashion, as if it was meant to be something that Ethan wasn't supposed to hear.

"No." Ethan waited a beat before asking a question he knew he would probably regret. "Who would we send in, anyway?"

Brandt shrugged as he looked over the intel again that had spawned his rash idea. "Me."

Hunt closed his eyes against the headache that was threatening to form. He turned his attention back to the blinking dots on the tablet and silently declared that he just wasn't going to respond to any ridiculous notions his agent came up with while still in his semi-drugged state.

"Ethan? You didn't…you didn't say anything…"

Hunt put the headphones back on and let the static drown out anything else Brandt had to say. He figured that was answer enough.

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **There is now an alternate title to this fic. It shall henceforth also be known as: "The One Where Benji Has An Aneurysm." Why is it so fun to be evil to that poor boy? Usual thanks goes to The Beta Branch for checking this over...after they promptly kept me from writing it sooner whilst distracting me with all their M:I prompts + other random discussion craziness! *glares* Sometimes there be chaos all up in that forum, lol!

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><p>"Benji," Brandt called, trying to get the tech's attention through the window. It didn't surprise him when he didn't get an answer, as he was hollering from the back of the van up through the small viewing window hoping it would travel through the passenger window that had only been cracked a small bit. Since Benji was currently running the power drill, that made matters even more difficult.<p>

"Benji!" he tried again much louder.

Still nothing. With a sigh, Brandt unlocked the wheels on his chair and reached for the handle of the van's sliding door. He sucked in a breath and held it, closing his eyes as he pulled. The movement wrenched on his side and thigh horribly, and he had to take several quick, hissing breaths between clamped teeth to keep himself from crying out. It wouldn't do to have Benji see that he'd hurt himself and send him back to the hotel.

"Not one of your brighter ideas," he mumbled once he could speak. After taking a quick look under his shirt to make sure he hadn't torn any of his stitches, he gripped the side of the van and leaned forward, yelling Benji's name again. Unfortunately, the shift in his weight caused the chair to roll forward with the movement. He panicked as the front wheels dropped over the edge, and was just about to risk jumping out when a hand pressed against his chest. He blew out a relieved breath as Benji carefully worked the chair to a safer position, one hand on Brandt to keep him steady, and one pushing against the chair's backrest.

"Thanks," Brandt said sheepishly.

Benji glared at him. "What were you _doing_? Are you _trying _to wind up back in the hospital?"

"I needed to talk to you," Will explained.

The tech opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head in disbelief, and tried again. "You couldn't wait until I was finished? I'm only changing the plates; it would've taken me like two more minutes."

"Ethan could be _back_ in two more minutes. I need you to log into your computer so I can get into your ID program thing."

Benji laughed for a second, then saw the serious look on Brandt's face. "Okay…you want to make an ID for yourself, but you don't want Ethan to know about it. I'm guessing that means you're probably thinking about doing something incredibly stupid, so if I help you, _I'll_ be doing something incredibly stupid, and Ethan will probably kill the both of us for it. That means I'm going to have to answer with a big, resounding 'no.'"

Brandt rolled his eyes. "It's not stupid. We need a reason for us to be in the parking lot. If one of the security guys comes to check up on us, I can just whip out my ID, he'll run it and see my credentials, and let us slide. I'm just covering our bases."

The tech furled his brow in confusion. "Why you and not Ethan, then?"

Brandt sighed and picked up the digital reader with Carmichael's files, then turned it so Benji could see what the analyst had highlighted. Dunn scanned it quickly, his eyes lighting up as he figured out what Brandt was getting at.

"This is… Why, exactly, are we not telling Ethan about this? It makes perfect sense. I don't understand why you think he'd have a problem with it."

Brandt cringed and nervously scratched his head. "Because I might have implied earlier that I wanted to go in."

Benji stared at him. "…Go in where?"

"Undercover," he muttered.

The tech chuckled. "Christ, Will, your meds really are doing a number on your filters, aren't they?" When Brandt only turned away in response, clearly a little embarrassed by the whole ordeal, Benji took pity on him. "I'll get the computer set up for you. Ethan will probably be back before you're ready to print, so I'll keep him from checking in on you, all right?"

Brandt nodded and shot a tiny grin at his friend. "Thanks, Benji."

The tech nodded as he opened up his laptop and hooked the ID printer up to it. "You don't use this ID unless you absolutely have to, alright?" he ordered.

"Got it," Brandt answered quickly.

"And if anyone asks, I had nothing to do with it."

"I won't tell a soul. Scout's honor."

Benji looked up. "Were you actually a Scout?"

"No," Brandt admitted with a shrug. "I still promise I won't tell."

Eyeing him for a second, Benji decided to try one more request. "And you won't bring up last night ever again?"

"I'll burn the tape if I have to," Will shot out, then winced. "You weren't supposed to know about the tape…"

Benji smirked. "You know, I kind of like it when your filters are down. You're very Mr. Honesty." He held out his hand. "I'll be taking that tape right now, if you don't mind."

Brandt sighed. "It's in the glovebox."

Now he understood why Ethan couldn't send him in undercover. Start firing off the right questions and he just spat out answers without thinking. Of course, if he weren't on the meds…

He tucked away that thought for later, still feeling the slight burn in his injuries from simply opening the van door. He'd behave for now, but if push came to shove he'd do what he'd have to in order to get the job done. If Ethan had a problem with that, he shouldn't have brought him along in the first place…even if it technically _was_ just for the sake of keeping him occupied.

Will smiled at that. He had a good team, and they meant well by keeping him involved; but they _had _to know by now how seriously he took his job as an agent, no matter how small the case. Lord knows they had been through enough hardships to figure that out; so no, he wasn't going to simply play weak little analyst on this. They put him on this mission, they were going to get his full help whether they wanted it or not.

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_

"Why us? Can't we ever have just _one_ simple mission where everything works out like it's supposed to?" Benji ranted as he turned the van around a corner a little too sharply.

"Would you slow down? It's not like anybody's dying," Brandt griped as he kept one hand clamped firmly to the bar that had been mounted on the divider between the front cab of the van and the back.

Benji sighed and let up on the gas a little. "I'm sorry, I just don't get why we always have such shitty luck. Jane is stranded on a kitchen island with Satan the Demon Dog trying to eat her face-"

"You're the one that told her to let him out if she got bored," Will pointed out.

"It was a _joke. _You should've seen what it took to get that little monster in the closet in the first place! Why would she honestly think I was serious?"

Brandt shrugged. "She didn't actually _say _she let him out. Then again, she didn't say much of _anything_ besides, 'Benji, get your ass back here now and catch the little shit before I shoot it!'" He chortled out a little laugh at his awful impersonation of his teammate.

Dunn watched his friend in the rearview mirror for a second before his face dropped. "Brandt, what did you take?"

"My meds, " Will answered, looking genuinely confused. "Ethan laid them out for me before he left. Why?"

"…And this was _after _you told him you wanted to go in undercover?" Benji had the feeling _someone_ was going to be dying once everyone's problems were sorted out, and it _wasn't_ going to be _him_.

Brandt shook his head. "Noooooo, it was after I yelled at him for ignoring me, which was _after _I told him I wanted to go undercover. He kept putting his headphones on even though all he could hear was static, which I know because I stole them off his head and listened, and all _I _heard was static, so that means he wasn't listening to Styles or Carmichael or _anyone_. He was just straight up ignoring me. I don't like to be ignored."

"Oh, good god," the tech mumbled to himself. "How did I become the grown up on this mission? I'm supposed to be the quirky, lovable, dependable, computer guy. I don't get paid enough to be the responsible one!"

"Wait!" Will exclaimed a touch too loudly inside the van. "Did Ethan drug me again? He did, didn't he? When we get him out of jail, I'm going to kick his ass. No, wait, I can't…stupid crocodile… Benji, when we get Ethan out of jail you have to promise me you'll kick his ass."

The tech frowned in thought before nodding his head. "Ya know, I think I'll do exactly that; but first things first, we have to rescue Jane."

"Right. Dog. She's stuck with…" He cocked his head to the side. "How did you get the dog in the closet, again?" A pinging sound came from his pocket and, forgetting he had just asked Benji a question, he read the email he had just received. "Wow. That worked a lot faster than I thought. Carmichael's people are _on _it. I wonder how much he pays them?"

Benji hit the breaks, stopping the van right in the middle of the street. He ignored the honking horns, and simply flipped on his emergency flashers before turning around to face his friend. "What worked? What did you do?"

"I built up Trent's profile. I wanted it to look good in case anybody checked. Not like you passworded out any of your programs or anything. _That _was a big mistake." He opened some screen on his phone and turned it so Benji could look, revealing some rising stocks in a company called, "Chairman Sports."

"Did you…? You built yourself an entire fake company? How did…why…you just...you're not even supposed to know how to _do _that!" Benji's eyes were wide with disbelief, his arms gesturing wildly as he spoke.

Brandt laughed. "You guys are funny. Hell_ooo_. Analyst. That means I'm pretty damn tech savvy, too. I don't hack things, but you give me a fully functioning program? I'm a smart cookie. I can figure it out."

He pulled his phone back and began to type something out in response to the message he had just received. Benji reached back and snatched the phone from Brandt's hands, not wanting his drugged friend to write anything idiotic to the wrong party in his current state of general loopiness. He quickly scanned the message, his alarm increasing by the second.

"Carmichael's men want to set up a meeting with Trent?"

"Bingo. I. Am a genius." Will smiled, then leaned forward and stage whispered, "Now we can set up bugs _inside _the building."

"We don't _need_ bugs inside the building!" Benji practically shouted. "That's why we have the dish!"

Brandt crinkled his nose up. "Your dish is stupid. And it's tacky. And it made Ethan go to jail."

"The dish didn't… Nevermind. I'm telling Carmichael's people that you'll get in touch with them tomorrow…when you're sober, and when Jane isn't cornered by a football dog, and after we've cleared up this misunderstanding with Ethan."

"_And_ after you kick his ass. You don't drug me without asking me first. We have a rule about that." Brandt crossed his arms over his chest like a pouting little kid. "You promised."

Benji smiled slightly in sympathy. "Yes, I did."

He put the van back into drive and eased it forward, allowing traffic to resume its normal path. He didn't have the heart to tell Brandt that the drug rule had slightly changed after putting him on this mission. Knowing how stubborn the analyst could be, and concerned he might do something to cause himself further injury, they had all agreed upon: "No drugging Brandt without his permission _unless _he's about to put himself into danger." Insisting he go undercover? Ethan probably had every right to be concerned; and had everything gone according to plan, Will probably would've just babbled on about nothing without a clue that he'd been drugged, passed out, and woken up a couple hours later feeling refreshed and happy.

Things that were _not _in the plan? Brandt finding the tiniest piece of information that clued them into the fact that Carmichael didn't allow commercial vehicles in the front lots, thereby rendering their "cable company" disguise as useless even with the handicap plates; Ethan going to buy new paints while Benji figured out how to remount the dish in a less conspicuous manner that still allowed it to be functional, thereby delaying the time it was taking for him to get back to Jane, which somehow led to the terrier's escape and consequent trapping of her in the kitchen; an incident in the hardware store involving an already irritable Hunt, some punk jocks trying to start shit for no other reason than to cause havoc, a fight in which the trained agent pretty much schooled said punks, and everyone's asses getting hauled off to jail; and Brandt clearly tricking Benji so that he could design his undercover persona despite Ethan's best attempts to wipe the idea from the analyst's trying-to-be-overly-helpful head.

Now Benji had psycho dog to deal with (again), some local cops who probably just _loved_ throwing their authority around, an increasingly higher-by-the-minute Brandt- "William! Do _not _touch that break release! Put both hands on the bar, _right now_!" –and they'd have to figure out how, exactly, they were going to work around this impromptu meeting that Carmichael's people wanted to set up with "Trent Rizner" – _Really, Brandt? You couldn't come up with a less fake-sounding name?_

Benji let out a heavy sigh. It turned out Brandt had been right from the very start – their team really was a walking example of Murphy's Law, and it was probably only going to get worse from here.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Let the arguing begin! Thanks for the reviews, guys. Hope this one's still amusing to you all. :)

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><p>Shouting matches were no unusual event amidst Hunt's team of crack agents, and shouting matches going on well into the night when other hotel guests were sleeping was something that they had unconsciously learned to work around. At the moment, one such battle was in full swing, everyone vying to be heard over the other while at the same time still managing to keep their volume down. "Screaming at the bottom of their lungs" was the term Brandt had given it one time following a rather heated debate regarding taking too many needless, life-endangering risks, which quickly broke down into amused laughter as they all realized no one was going to get anywhere in that argument.<p>

At the moment Benji was, in his best inside voice, yelling at Jane for not keeping the dog distracted long enough for him to get through the door, resulting in some light bruising and surface punctures around one of his ankles. The situation had been further enhanced in the van when Jane had to drive while the tech tended to his dog bite wounds. Brandt had taken one look, laughed, called Benji a pussy, and asked him if they shouldn't go back to get one of the dog's teeth as a souvenir like the one he always wore on a chain around his neck – the one from the crocodile that Benji had kept for him. Benji didn't think it was very funny, especially after the day he had already been having leading up to that point.

In return, Jane was softly yelling at Benji for not properly securing the closet door to begin with. Apparently the doorknob was a little tricky, and despite her telling him to put a chair or something in front of the door before they had set to work on planting the bugs, he had shrugged it off thinking the little rat dog was too small to get out on its own. She didn't realize he hadn't listened to her instructions until she found herself being ambushed by the little monster while she was cleaning up after installing the last of the listening devices in the kitchen. It had rounded the corner, teeth fully bared, and she had barely moved fast enough to get up onto the island in order to avoid suffering the same fate as Benji. She had been stuck there for nearly an hour while waiting for Dunn to come to her rescue.

Benji then returned fired because he wouldn't have been delayed in returning to the house in the first place if Ethan hadn't decided to get into a brawl with a bunch of kids for no real reason at all. Then there were the unexpected stops along the way back to Styles' place, all of which involved catering to Brandt's drugged-up antics. Benji was so frustrated and wound up by the time he got to the front door, even a gentle dog would've tried to attack him upon entry - the anger vibes were probably coming off him in waves. Ethan, of course, was also to blame for that, because _was it really necessary to drug him?_

Ethan took the opportunity to quietly shout back at Benji for allowing himself to be conned by Brandt into getting the means to go undercover, thus negating the whole reason for administering the extra medication in the first place. It was Benji's fault that now they had to find a way to safely get their injured, somewhat hazy-thinking friend through a meeting with the target's people, and just hope that nothing would be said that would compromise their real purpose for being there.

Jane lit into Ethan for having the idiotic idea to take the mission in the first place, that he should've known better than to think they could actually keep Brandt sitting in the van with nothing to keep his overactive mind occupied.

As they kept at it, something tickled at the back of Ethan's head…a sound that shouldn't be there. He distanced himself from the fight and listened for a brief second, alarm setting in as he registered the noise as running water. _The shower._

"Shit," he bit out, and rushed to the bathroom, cursing again as he passed Will's empty chair in the hallway. How did they not notice a man in a wheelchair leaving the room?

Knocking once, he didn't wait for an answer before he pushed the door open. Part relief, party pity, and part guilt settled in his gut as he found Will just sitting on the toilet, face hidden in crossed arms as he leaned his head down on his walker.

The agent spoke, his voice full of defeat, without picking his head up. "I can't get in there, can I?"

Ethan sighed and squatted down in front of Will. "Thought you figured that out this morning, buddy. That's why we're getting a new hotel tomorrow, remember?"

"Doesn't help wash it off _now,_" Brandt whined.

"Wash what off? What'd you get into?" Hunt did his best to look over the folded form of his friend, wondering if somehow the man had also managed to spill something on himself while the other three were too engaged in their verbal sparring to realize it.

"I don't _know_," Will sighed out in a long breath. "I feel…dirty." He paused for a long time before adding a quiet, "I'm sorry."

Hunt closed his eyes for second. For a group of such intelligent people, they could all be real idiots sometimes. "Don't worry about the meeting, okay? We'll figure it out."

"Not just…" He took one of his arms and draped it over his head, hiding himself even further the best he could. "Should've left me home… I'm screwing up everything."

"Brandt, you're not-" Hunt cursed himself as Will shied away from the hand that he was trying to lay on the distraught man's shoulder. He shouldn't have drugged him, that wasn't the right way to handle the situation. Sighing, he sat back again, dipping his head a little as he spoke. "Why don't we just get you to bed, okay? You'll feel better in the morning." -Mostly because he wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, but Ethan wasn't about to tell him that.

There was another long pause before Brandt answered. "Can you give me five minutes? I'm slow."

"I can help you stand if-"

Will cut him off. "No, I just really have to pee. I don't want you to watch."

Ethan couldn't help the little laugh that escaped him as he nodded and stood up. "I'll be right outside if you need me," he said, patting his agent on the arm. As he turned, he flashed Benji and Jane a sad smile as they observed the conversation quietly from the doorway. They moved back, returning their own supportive smiles as he slipped out and shut the door behind him.

"Don't listen!" Brandt hollered.

All three broke into lofty chuckles as they scattered for the night, leaving Ethan leaning against the opposite wall from the bathroom. In his head, he re-edited the drug rule back to its original wording. No more, not without Brandt's permission as long as he was fit enough to give it. This "simple" mission was going splendidly catastrophic enough without adding a high Brandt into the fray.

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_

The morning didn't seem to be any less chaotic than the evening had been, adding a now very sober Brandt into the mix as another player in the arguments.

"It'll be fine, I'll be fine. One of you can tag along. Someone else can be 'the helper' for once."

Benji glanced over his shoulder as he drove the van. "Well I can't be it, and neither can Ethan. Styles will recognize us."

"You could always wear a mask," Brandt shot back with a slight grin. "I'm sure you're dying to get near that guy ag-"

"No, nuh-huh, you promised. You are not supposed to talk about that."

Brandt cocked his head. "Did I? I don't remember that. Probably because _someone_" –he glared at Ethan- "decided to switch my meds up on me."

Ethan started to reply but Benji cut him off. "No! No. You made me that promise _before _you were all fruity loops."

Jane leaned forward to interrupt. "Styles didn't see me at all. I'm fine with being 'the helper.'" She eyed Brandt. "But I still think this is a terrible idea."

"Which is why I switched the meds in the first place," Ethan said, catching his chance to defend himself. At the look on Brandt's face, he was quick to speak before the analyst could. "But it won't happen again."

Benji frowned. "Wait, are we still arguing, or are we agreeing on things? It _feels _like an argument, but we're all on the same page…sort of…"

"We're not on the same page," Brandt pointed out. "Me going undercover is not a terrible idea."

"Yes it is!" everyone else blurted out.

Will threw his hands up and leaned back in his seat. "Fine, well, it's too late to do anything about it now. If you wanted me to play nice, you shouldn't have drugged me. You know what that shit does to me."

Benji shook his head. "And again, you had your undercover persona planned _before _you went all-"

"Fruity loops, I know; and would you stop saying that? You can't sugarcoat a drug high."

Ethan spoke up. "And you shouldn't try to use 'drug high' as an excuse for everything you do, especially since it won't be happening again."

"No, it won't." Brandt glared at everyone in turn. "Point stands, though. You know I don't think as clearly even on just the regular pain meds. I can still use it as an excuse a little bit."

"Which is why this undercover thing is a terrible idea," Jane reiterated.

"Which is why I'm not taking the meds," Brandt pointed out.

"What?" the other three practically shouted.

"Benji, stop the van," Ethan ordered.

The vehicle came to a stop on the side of the road, ending with everyone glaring at Brandt. He didn't back down from their near-seething looks. "I thought this over, okay? There's no other way this can work. I talk too much when I'm half fruity loops. I have to go without."

Benji scoffed. "Why do you get to say-? Nevermind. How do you expect to function with no pain killers?"

"Did you take anything this morning?" Jane asked, catching the way Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat at Benji's question.

Brandt shook his head. "I thought about taking some ibuprofen or something, but wasn't sure if it'd react to anything still in my system from last night. You know I can't-"

Ethan snapped his fingers. "Jane, get on the phone with his doctor and find out what's safe. Let him know I gave him the sedative yesterday."

"Guys. I'm fine. Let's just get to the new hotel, check in, I can finally get my shower – thank god, because I feel like ass right now - then get the hell over to Detroskye. It's just a quick meet-and-greet. I can get through a few hours without my pain meds."

Ethan blinked at him and turned back to Jane. "His doctor?"

"Got it in speed dial," she answered.

Benji grinned at the flustered look on Brandt's face, who in turn rolled his eyes and proceeded to stare at the ceiling while Jane made the call. The van was quiet as she explained the situation as best she could without giving away any details of the mission, and gave the analyst a smug look as she responded to something with, "I know, that's what I said."

"It's _not _a terrible idea," Brandt mumbled without looking at her.

She thanked the doctor and hung up, adding, "He says you shouldn't even be off the couch."

This time Ethan interrupted before another argument could start up. "The meds?"

Jane shook her head. "We need to wait at least two more hours before-"

"There, see? Two hours," Brandt said triumphantly. "That's plenty of time. Like I said, I'll be _fine._"

"Two hours before he can take something mild," Jane finished. "Nothing with acetaminophen, either."

Ethan sighed and motioned for Benji to get the van moving again. "Let's get this over with," he mumbled.

"Get this over-?" Brandt laughed sarcastically. "Thanks. Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys."

Jane shot a glare at their team leader before touching Brandt's leg. "It's not that we doubt you, Will. We're just concerned. You haven't been out of the hospital that long…"

"I don't need the pity speech, Jane." He brushed her hand off his knee. "You guys just do your jobs, I'll do mine, and we'll 'get it over with' as soon as possible. Then I can go back home and lay around the couch where I belong, right?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and shut his eyes, effectively closing himself off from anything else his teammates had to say. The other three remained silent, not wanting to agree with him, but at the same time not wanting to falsely disagree. Creating tension in the team wasn't a great way to start the day, and the sun hadn't even fully come up yet. They just hoped they could get their act together before the meet with Carmichael's people. Their mission, and possibly their already-injured friend's safety, was counting on it.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Sorry the update took so long. I'm juggling a lot of fics around work right now, so I put 'em out as I can! I give you a lil bit of fluff and a lil bit of fun as the undercover op begins!

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><p>Brandt wrapped the towel around his waist while he gripped one of the support bars in the shower tightly. Very slowly, and even more carefully, he leaned out until he could shift his weight onto his other hand that groped at the walker, and he sighed as he awkwardly maneuvered his way out of the shower. It felt immeasurably good to be clean, but the effort to do so put a bit too much strain on his healing body, especially without the aide of any sort of remotely functional painkillers. With a cut-off groan, he eased himself down onto the toilet seat and gingerly began the process of slipping on his boxers. He wouldn't tell the others how much it actually killed him every morning to accomplish that simple feat, but asking for help with that was the biggest <em>no <em>on his "things not to ask help with" list. His pride could only handle so many punches, after all.

It took longer than normal to get himself decent, and by the time he was done he was winded and sweating a tiny bit. The rest of his pride be damned. If he pushed himself anymore he wasn't going to get through that meeting.

"Ethan? You close by?" he asked tentatively, not raising his voice enough that it carried throughout the whole hotel room, but just enough to be heard if anyone was hovering outside the door. As expected, somebody was. Somebody pretty much _always_ was, in case he should take a dive while stubbornly tending to his more personal needs.

The door cracked open just a tiny bit, bringing a smile to Brandt's face. Even through their worry they respected his desire for privacy.

"Should I come in?" Benji asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, Benji, can you-" he winced as he shifted on the seat to pull the fabric of his boxers up above the point where the plastic was still protecting his stitches on his thigh. "I need help getting this stuff off."

As the tech entered the room, Will made sure to readjust the towel so that everything else stayed decently covered. Benji smirked at that just a tiny bit, looked like he wanted to make some sort of unwise, smartass comment, then seemed to think better of it. Ducking his head to clear his throat for a second, he looked back up and managed to keep a straight face as he kneeled down in front of his friend, pushing the walker out of the way so he could reach the required areas better. Brandt clutched onto the side of the sink and tried to lift his leg up to make unwinding the plastic easier, but exhaled with a sharp cry, dropping the leg back down.

Benji's hands froze a few inches away from the plastic. "Are you sure you don't want your meds?"

Coming from anyone else, Brandt would've thought the question was a snide way of rubbing in the fact that it was his own fault he was hurting, but there was nothing but genuine concern in the tech's voice. Forcing his eyes to open, he let out a slower breath and shook his head. "No. I can't risk it. You said it yourself – I don't have any filters when I'm on that stuff."

With a worried nod, Benji reached for the bindings again. "Don't try to help, alright? I'll pick up your leg when I need to."

In the end, it took calling Ethan in for an extra set of hands before they could get Brandt completely dressed in a semi-casual suit – nice enough for the meeting, but not too restricting on his injuries – and they still had a little time to spare before they needed to head out. The original plan was to get something to eat, but one look at the two shades whiter the analyst had become during the process of getting dressed told them it would be better to stay in and let him regain some of his strength. He didn't fight them on that, which was a testament to how tired he was feeling in and of itself. Instead, they settled him on the couch for a short nap, all of them mindless of the fact that it would rumple up the suit a little bit, and simply bided their time quietly until it was time to go.

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_

"Brandt?"

He stirred at the sound of Jane's voice and groggily rubbed at his eyes. "Hmm?"

"We're almost at the gate."

"Right, sorry."

He cleared his throat and sat up straight, checking his reflection in his sun visor's mirror so he could run his hands through his sleep-mussed hair a bit. As they pulled up to the security check-in, anyone looking in would never have known by the bright smile on his face that he had barely been coherent as Ethan and Benji practically lifted him up into the van's passenger seat, or that he had slept like the dead with his face against the cool glass the entire ride over, or that the simple act of leaning over to hand the guard his ID labeling him as Trent Rizner, founder and CEO of Chairman Sports, lit his healing injuries on fire.

"Thank you, Mr. Rizner, you're clear to head in," the guard said, handing the ID back through the window. Jane intercepted it so Brandt wouldn't have to lean over her again, having seen the slight tremble in his hand as he had pulled back the first time. He thanked her with a silent look as they pulled through into the front lot, finding a handicapped spot right near the front entrance.

Ethan shifted forward and reached a hand through the small window, placing it on Brandt's shoulder. "You sure you're up to this?"

"I got it under control," Will said with an assuring smile. "Now help me outta here and get back out of sight. Can't risk Styles seeing his new favorite-"

"Scout's honor?" Benji reminded him.

"Fine. Sorry. Okay, come on. You guys are going to make me late for my meeting."

Brandt held his breath as Benji and Ethan lifted him out of the van as gently as they could, and laughed once they deposited him into his chair.

"Something funny?" Ethan asked.

"I'm not going to shatter, you know," Will informed them. "You guys are treating me like some kind of porcelain doll. I'm _fine._"

Jane smiled from behind him, offering Ethan and Benji a knowing shrug. There was no way he could just make that quick of a turn around from pained exhaustion to perky agent in the short span of time he'd been asleep. He was simply gearing himself up, slipping into a character in preparation for what needed to be done. They'd be ready for the crash once he was through.

"Nina," he said, addressing Jane. "If you'd be so kind…"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Rizner," she responded, gripping the handles of his chair.

Benji sniffed and placed his hands on his hips. "You're going to get caught with names like that, you know," he warned.

"Get in the van, Benji," Brandt replied, shooting his friend a little wave as Jane pushed him towards the door.

"This is never going to work," the tech sighed as he followed Ethan back into the rig and sat at his computer.

"Have a little faith, Benji. He knows what he's doing," Hunt said with a grin. "I hope…" he added under his breath.

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_

Brandt leaned forward and hit the handicap button that would open the doors, smiling as Jane pushed him through to the lobby. The moment they were inside and his eyes landed on the front desk, however, his lips turned down into a frown.

"Unbelievable," he said loudly. "Nina, are you seeing this?"

He gestured towards the desk and the poor receptionist who watched them, her welcoming grin faltering a bit as she obviously tried to figure out what the issue was. Jane just followed Brandt's lead and shook her head at the girl, waiting for him to clue her in on the game.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes." He folded his hands in his lap and regarded her with an air of annoyance. "See, the problem is…Nina, push me forward slowly, please."

Jane did as asked until he they had gotten close enough to the desk where the girl had to sit on the edge of her seat and peer down in order to keep eye contact with Brandt.

"There. Stop right here, Nina." He glared up at the receptionist. "You see the problem now? I'm not even all the way across the room and you already have to practically stand to address me. If I come all the way to you – Nina?" He snapped his fingers, and she maneuvered the chair right up to the edge of the desk. "You can't see me at all now, can you?"

He could actually hear the girl swallow, and he forced himself to hide his smirk. "No, sir," she admitted.

"That's what I thought. Can you please come around and address me properly?" He waited until she quickly stepped around to the front of the check-in counter. "Thank you. I'm here for a meeting with a Mr. Phelps and some of his associates…though honestly I don't know why I should even bother. If Carmichael can't even supply a desk suitable to the needs of people like myself, I'm not sure what he can do for my company's demands. If this all winds up being a big waste of my time, I'm not going to be happy. I'm a very busy man."

"Right, sir, I'm sure you are. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I'd be happy to file an official complaint for you if you'd-"

He waved a hand at her. "No, I'm pretty sure I can handle complaining all by myself, but thanks." He cocked his head and flashed her a bit of a condescending smile. "What you can do for me is check me in, and direct me to my meeting room. The name will be under Rizner, Trent."

The girl plastered on a fake grin in return, and nodded her head as she moved back around to the safe side of the desk. "I'll need the name of your assistant, as well," she informed him, "for the guest log."

Jane glared at the girl. "The 'assistant' is allowed to speak for herself," she said a little bitterly. "Pinion, Nina."

The girl visibly flushed. "I-I'm sorry, Ms. Pinion. Of course, I didn't mean-"

"The room?" Brandt interrupted impatiently from his hidden spot below the edge of the counter.

"Right, um, just take…sorry." She walked back around so she could speak directly to Will again. "Take that elevator up to the 67th floor. Martin can guide you from there."

Will looked at his fingernails disinterestedly as he spoke. "Will Martin also have to stand to look at me?"

She flushed again. "Er, no, his station is set lower than mine."

Brandt beamed up at Jane. "Hey! Progress!" he said both excitedly and sarcastically at the same time. "Let's go, Nina."

"Yes, sir," she responded with her own little smirk, then shot the receptionist a glare on the way past.

Once in the elevator, Will had to stifle his laughter so he wouldn't aggravate his side. "Wow. Trent's a _dick._"

"So I noticed," Jane snorted. "I think we traumatized that poor girl."

Brandt shrugged. "She was young."

"And that means…?"

He grinned. "I needed to keep her a little scrambled. She might've caught onto the names."

"Ha!" Benji nearly shouted. "I _told _you those names were too obvious! You really should've thought that out more."

Will just shrugged again. "I like a challenge."

"And this is why we never let you pick the codenames," the Brit grumbled.

"Psh, this mission is so low key we haven't even been _using _codenames," Will pointed out.

Benji's voice rose an octave. "_That's _because with Styles you wanted to call me 'Deuce' and Ethan 'Pimp Daddy!'"

"What?" Will asked innocently. "It fit the situation."

"I'm going to be nice and blame your thought process on the fact that you were on your medication at the time."

Ethan chimed in, putting an end to the argument. "Game's changed now, guys. We're not on recon anymore, we're on real mission. _Everyone's _on codenames from here on out. No arguments over what they are."

Benji was quiet for a second. "Can I at least have a different name than 'Piggy?'"

"It's a great song," Brandt said. "One of the most popular. You should be honored."

"Then _you _be Piggy."

"I can't. I'm Trent."

Jane cut in. "We're almost to our floor, guys." She leaned over Brandt, resting a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to really look at her. "You okay?"

"Fine," he answered with absolute, positive conviction. She didn't miss the unconscious movement of his thumb brushing lightly across his wounded thigh as his hands rested in his lap.

"Okay," she blew out, offering him a slight nod. "Spiral, we're going in."

"Affirmative," Ethan answered, and listened intently as the elevator doors slid open and Martin chipperly greeted his agents. He couldn't help but feel the need to hold his breath as Brandt was led into the meeting room. If Will could pull this off, they would be in the perfect position to complete the mission with absolute success. If he failed, then the real reason _behind _the mission would be tattered, and they'd have to start with square one – Brandt sulking on the couch, slipping into his sea of self-doubt, pretending like he's happy as a clam.

"You can do this, Trent," Benji barely whispered, clearly thinking the same thing.

"Hi, Mr. Phelps? Trent Rizner. Pleasure to meet you. Now, before we get into any possible business arrangements, we _really _need to discuss a little issue with your front lobby…"

Ethan felt one side of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. Brandt was in his element. He was going to be fine.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Sorry my updates on everything are taking so long! RL is so getting in the way right now! Sometimes I write things then don't get a chance to do a final edit on them, so they sit on my computer for a while (this being one of those things). I'm taking an editing day to get all such updates posted on various stories, so I apologize in advance to anyone who has me on author alert. There'll be like four or five posts today in various fandoms.

I also apologize to everyone who has been so kind to review that I didn't get back to. I try to answer each review with a personal thank you, but again, sooo busy! I hope thanking you all here will suffice. I lurve you guys!

And last but not least, The Beta Branch forum is getting new people all the time. Our little community is growing! Thanks, guys, for all the help and advice on everything, and trying to push me to get some writing done around my insanity. Anyone who wants to join, the link is posted in my profile page.

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><p>Jane watched Brandt work, a little in awe at how easily he was able to carry on a conversation with these men under the guise of a big business owner. She had gotten lost as soon as they'd moved beyond the little issue with the desk, the words and numbers being thrown around being completely meaningless to her. Brandt never missed a beat. He argued, he listened quietly before agreeing to things, he pointed out flaws in some nonsensical business plan, laughed at jokes that Carter hadn't even realized were supposed to <em>be <em>jokes, and generally seemed to be right at home in the company of Carmichael's grunts. It almost made her wonder why he hadn't just become some successful entrepreneur, living the life of luxury at the top of some highrise somewhere, instead of getting nearly eaten by crocodiles in Panama.

Of course, Benji could probably still be working at a safe little desk, hacking into things for the government as the tech genius that he was. Ethan had any number of skills he could utilize for careers that would be far less dangerous than being a pawn for IMF, as did she, but they just couldn't stay away. Even when Brandt had "quit" after the mission in Croatia, he still hadn't left the agency. IMF just ran in their blood, plain and simple. Once you were in, you never really got out.

Unless you were permanently disavowed. Or dead.

"What, you think I'm just going to walk away and let your people draft up the designs for these things without any supervision?" Brandt said in an exasperated tone, bringing her wandering mind back down to Earth. "You can't even build a proper desk. How the hell are you going to figure out how to make the seat so a person who can't feel their legs can still climb up into it?"

Phelps stuttered for a second. "Mr. Rizner, I assure you that Mr. Carmichael would be willing to supervise this project personally. He understands-"

"I don't think he does," Brandt interrupted, putting some anger into his tone. "Is he stuck in a chair?"

"Well, he has some personal experien-"

"_Is _he stuck in a _chair?_"

Brandt glared at Phelps until the man cleared his throat. "No, Mr. Rizner, he is not."

"Then he can't possibly understand. That seems to settle it, then. I'll be serving as the head consultant on all the designs, myself. If that's unacceptable, then I'm afraid we can't make a deal."

Voices were suddenly in Jane's comm and she was now glad that Brandt had very subtly turned his off so Ethan and Benji wouldn't distract him. They were _definitely _being distracting now.

"What's he doing?" Benji asked.

"He's offering to do this long term," Ethan snapped, less to answer Benji's question and more as simply voicing the realization in disbelief. "Why is he making this offer long term?"

Benji continued to rattle on. "A few meetings. It was only supposed to be a few meetings. Enough to get in and plant a few bugs here and there. He can't have these people actually building handi-friendly sporting vehicles! He doesn't have a real company!"

"He's going to get caught," Hunt stated in irritation. "Nina, do something before this gets out of control. He's going to get caught."

She ignored them. It was too late to do anything about it now. Phelps was answering.

"…Very well, Mr. Rizner. We'll start drafting tomorrow if you'd like to offer your input. I'll set you up with Mr. Thomison in the design department. Does two o'clock sound reasonable?"

"Yes, thank you." Brandt shook his hand. "I look forward to doing business with your company."

"As do we. I'm sure Mr. Carmichael will be very pleased to know that you're willing to work with us."

Brandt smiled. "And I'd very much like to thank him in person some time for making the offer."

"WHAT?" Benji and Ethan both shouted, making Jane flinch.

"I'll see what I can arrange," Phelps answered before offering to see them out.

Jane took that as her cue and stood to grip the handles of Brandt's chair, turning him towards the door. He and Phelps shook hands once more before they were home free.

"Piggy and Spiral are a little upset with you, just so you know," Jane warned as the doors closed on the elevator.

Brandt didn't answer.

She looked down to see him curling slightly to the left, his right arm wrapped around his midsection, and his left hand gripping the arm of the chair tightly. He had his eyes shut and was focusing on taking small, even breaths.

"Shit," she hissed, looking up at the numbers ticking down to the first floor. "Trent, I know you're hurting, but we still have to get passed the girl at the desk, remember?"

"I know," Brandt forced out between clenched teeth. "I'll get it together. Just tell me…when we hit the bottom."

"Nina?"

"Spiral, now is _not _the time," she snapped. "Trent, we're passing the third floor."

Brandt sucked in a shuddering breath and forced himself to sit up straight. "Okay…okay…I got this."

The doors opened and Jane casually rolled her false employer to the lobby. Both she and Brandt smiled at the receptionist, who offered them a slightly nervous smile in return.

"You'll be getting a new desk soon," Brandt said, throwing her a little wink. "Hope you weren't too attached to that one."

"No, sir," she answered, seeming a little more at ease as they began to pass through the doors.

Jane pushed the chair a little faster towards the van, not caring anymore if it looked suspicious.

"Piggy, open the door," she ordered as she was getting close.

Benji and Ethan were outside the van in seconds, both taking in Brandt's hunched over form in the chair. As soon as he was brought close enough they hurried over to help, getting him into the back and laying out on the bench as quickly and carefully as possible.

"Two o'clock," he grunted as Ethan pulled out the pain meds. "Needs to be….out of my system…by two."

"I know, I heard," Hunt replied, dumping the full dose into his palm. "That's almost twenty-four hours from now. You'll be fine."

Brandt nodded, taking the offered medication without argument.

"And for the record," Ethan continued in a scolding tone, "this is the worst idea you've ever had."

"Worst?" Brandt laughed lightly and winced at the motion. "Thought you were gonna…say 'stupid.'"

"Yeah, well, that too."

Benji leaned forward into Will's line of sight. "I second that."

Brandt nodded and closed his eyes, a small smile on his face.

"One more thing," Ethan said softly, waiting for his agent to look at him again before he continued. "You sounded really good in there."

"I know," the analyst answered before turning his head towards the back of the bench, done with the conversation as he waited for the drugs to kick in.

"Cocky little prick, isn't he?" Benji said fondly.

Brandt raised a hand and flipped him off.

_**~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~MI~**_

Brandt had stayed asleep for the duration of the ride back to the room, kept right on sleeping as they carefully lifted him back into his chair, and even through the process of them getting him settled in bed.

After leaving the bedroom, Benji pulled the door nearly closed behind him, keeping it open just a crack in case the analyst woke and needed something.

"You didn't O.D. him, did you?" he asked, his tone coming out only partially joking.

Ethan shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "It's too much strain. I shouldn't have let him do this. We can't let him go back tomorrow."

Beside him, Jane let out a slow sigh. "We have to, Ethan."

Both Benji and Ethan turned to her in surprise. Jane was usually the _last _person on board the "let's do something heroic that'll probably get us killed" crazy train...well, when it came to the guys, anyway. When it came to herself, she was pretty much on par with the rest of them.

"What?" Benji spat out.

She tilted her head towards the living area and lead the way to the couch, not wanting to have the conversation right outside the bedroom door.

"You should've seen him in there," she explained. "This is going to sound cliché, but he was practically glowing while he was talking circles around those guys. We can't pull him out, now. It'll crush him."

"Jane," Ethan started. "Look at him. His body can't take this yet. It's too soon. I know he wants to feel useful but he's being reckless. I'm not going to let him hurt himself."

"I'll watch him," she argued. "I'll be right there the whole time. If it looks like it's too much, I'll pull him out. Just let him try. Please."

Benji looked back and forth between the two, and seeing the conviction in Jane's eyes, he decided to switch sides. "What the hell, let's give him one more go, huh? We can always crush him tomorrow if it doesn't pan out."

Ethan cocked an eyebrow at the Brit. "Traitor," he mumbled, but he could tell that between the two and whatever Brandt would dish out upon waking up, he'd already lost the argument. When it was everyone against everyone, it was anybody's guess who'd wind up on top. If it were the three of them against him, he didn't stand a chance.

"Fine, one more day," he huffed, much to Jane and Benji's delight. "Jane, when he's in there with that Thomison guy, see if you can slip out and plant some bugs somewhere useful. The sooner we can pull him out of there, the better."

"Right," she nodded.

With a grin, Benji sat back in his chair. "Well, now that that's settled, I'm famished. Who wants to spring for pizza?"

Jane groaned. "We just _had _pizza."

"I _like _pizza."

And just like that, a completely new argument began over something utterly trivial. Ethan was about to jump in with his two cents when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Shaking his head, he moved into the other bedroom so he could hear over the squabbling siblings.

"Agent Hunt," he answered.

The smile that had been on his face at the start of the call quickly fell as he listened to the Secretary speak, not liking what he was hearing. The conversation between them was short, professional, but a little clipped on Hunt's end. This wasn't the way things were supposed to play out.

"…but thank you for telling me, sir," he said, his voice somber as he ended the call. He opened the door and called out to his teammates. "Guys, get in here."

They quit arguing and immediately did as requested.

"What's wrong?" Benji asked as they stepped into the room.

"Shut the door." Hunt continued once there was another barrier between them and Brandt, even though he knew the analyst was still sleeping. "That was the Secretary. Cary's team…missed the last two check-ins."

Benji and Jane exchanged a glance. "So what does that mean?" Jane asked.

"I don't know. The Secretary wanted to send us back in to see if we could find out what happened."

"But what about-" Benji started to ask.

Ethan held up a hand to stop him. "I told him no, to send somebody else. Maybe Nielson's team. We're finishing the mission here, with Brandt. I just thought you guys should know."

The other two nodded and began to leave, the argument over food no longer seeming important. Ethan stopped them one more time.

"Don't let him hear about this," he told them.

They nodded. It was the _last _thing they'd want Brandt to have carry around on his plate. It was full enough as it was.


End file.
